


Star Gazers

by AnnaValentine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-16 00:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21499231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaValentine/pseuds/AnnaValentine
Summary: Modified timeline AU, where Voldermort died after the events of the sixth book and everyone returns to Hogwarts for their final year. But Hermione's hiding something - she was cursed during the battle at the tower, and only Draco knows she has one year left to live.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	1. The Last Train Ride

This was an ending.  
  
Not for the first time, the realisation hit me like a Whomping Willow branch to the stomach. I stood in my bedroom and stared around at the prim décor, soft in the morning summer light. The bed was made, the pastel green blanket piled with sleek, fawn-brown cushions. The study desk, for once, was tidy. I’d packed away my parchments, removed the ink splotches with Mrs Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, and my books were back in the cherry wood shelves that took up one wall of the room. Mum and Dad hadn’t let me have more than one bookshelf.  
  
‘It’s a fire hazard,’ Dad always said, and he remained infuriatingly stubborn about it.  
  
I’d be returning here, of course. But this was, technically, the last time I could call myself a citizen of the muggle world. When I graduated, I’d be a witch first and foremost.  
  
It left an ache in me, but a thrill at the same time, like an exhilarated gasp unable to break free. I was leaving my childhood behind.  
  
Assuming I made it past June 30th.  
  
_No._  
  
I curled my fists. No giving up. It was my one rule.  
  
I whispered goodbye to my room and lugged my trunk down the stairs to where my parents were waiting. Dad was misty-eyed. They hadn't planned to send me to boarding school. If I hadn’t been a witch, we never would’ve been so far apart.  
  
And what sort of distance would separate us once I got a job in the wizarding world?  
  
‘Haven’t forgotten anything?’ Dad said, taking the trunk from me. His voice was croaky.  
  
Crookshanks lazed in a pool of sunlight by the front window; I hauled him into my arms, his warm weight a comfort. It gave me the strength to answer without being croaky myself. ‘Everything’s checked off the list.’  
  
‘Good girl,’ Mum said. She patted my cheek. My parents weren’t particularly versed in physical affection.  
  
‘And you’re sure you don’t want to come home for Christmas?’ Dad said.  
  
‘Not this year,’ I said. ‘Not with my N.E.W.T.s.’  
  
Mum and Dad chuckled at this. They’d always found wizarding things charming. Magic – newts – _funny_. They wouldn’t be laughing if they knew the amount of study that went into passing the seventh year.  
  
Mum walked with us to the car. She had to work, so after a brisk goodbye she left, and it was just me, Dad, and Crookshanks.  
  
The drive was about half an hour. Dad asked if I wanted him to go to Platform 9 and three quarters with me, and I almost said yes.  
  
But I wasn’t sure whether my bravery would hold up if he came with me. Would I cry and tell him everything as I boarded the train? Would my summer of careful, secret research – and my plans for the rest of the year – be ruined for this one moment of weakness?  
  
I pictured his expression if I were to tell him the truth. The expression I would have to live with for almost a year, seared into my mind.  
  
No. He didn’t have to come with me. We parted ways. It took all my strength not to look back.  
  
The bustling atmosphere of King’s Cross changed the instant I stepped onto the Hogwarts Express platform. While the noises were the same as always – the hiss of steam, the hoot of owls, the chatter of children – the people weren’t. Most faces were sombre; adults spoke in hushed tones. The younger students still ran around laughing. They didn’t really understand.  
  
Many people wore black armbands over their wizard robes. Harry and Ron did, too.  
  
‘Here,’ Ron said, passing me one as soon as I joined them on the platform. ‘Mum’s got a bunch.’  
  
Harry’s face was wan. He looked like he’d lost weight over the summer.  
  
‘How are you?’ I said, setting down my trunk and Crookshanks’s basket to hug him.  
  
‘Oh… you know.’ He tried to smile, but I could see the effort it cost him.  
  
‘Grimmauld Place was okay?’  
  
The attempted smile turned into a grimace. ‘As okay as expected, with Kreacher and Mrs Black still rattling around. But at least it wasn’t my aunt and uncle’s place.’  
  
None of us brought up Professor Dumbledore, even as I slipped on the armband.  
  
‘How was your summer?’ Ron said. ‘I didn’t hear from you.’ His grin was a little less forced than Harry’s. ‘Expect you were doing all the N.E.W.T. readings, yeah? You’d probably be able to pass the exams already.’  
  
‘Shut up, Ron,’ I said, giving him a not-too gentle punch on the arm, and it felt good, for that one moment, to be with my ridiculous friends again.  
  
The moment was wrenched from me when I spotted a shock of blond hair in the crowd. My good humour crumbled.  
  
‘What’s _he_ doing here?’  
  
Harry let out a long sigh as we watched Malfoy slouch onto a carriage. ‘Mr Weasley told me he managed to worm his way out of a real prison sentence because he didn’t actually do anything.’  
  
‘Didn’t…?’ I spluttered, momentarily unable to find words. ‘He pointed his wand with the intent to kill!’  
  
‘Yes, but he didn’t go through with it. The Wizengamont took into account his history and his position…’ Harry gave a one-shouldered shrug and ruffled his hair. ‘They sentenced him to spend the summer in Azkaban, at least.’  
  
My indignation calmed somewhat. ‘Oh. That’s better than nothing, I suppose.’  
  
‘Wonder what those Dementors are like now you-know-who is gone,’ Ron said.  
  
‘Ron.’ I exchanged an exasperated grin with Harry. ‘Voldermort’s dead. You can say his name as much as you like now.’  
  
‘Yeah, but…’ Ron lowered his voice, glancing around furtively. _‘Ghosts.’_  
  
It was enough to get us laughing again, and we boarded the train in a better mood. Ginny joined us after prying herself away from her multitude of friends. Harry put his arm around her as she sat next to him by the window.  
  
‘You’ll never guess who’s our new DADA professor,’ she said, eyes shining.  
  
‘I’m just glad it’s anyone but Snape,’ Harry said.  
  
‘I’d take the giant squid as a professor over Snape,’ Ron said.  
  
‘Boys!’ I didn’t so much say it as snap it. Both of them stared at me. I pointed to my armband. ‘A little respect for the dead, please.’  
  
‘Murderers don’t deserve respect,’ Harry said coolly.  
  
Ron reached for my armband. ‘If he’s why you’re wearing it, I want it back.’  
  
I wrenched my arm away, glowering. ‘You know he only killed Professor Dumbledore because he was asked to.’  
  
‘Sure, sure, he was working for the good guys all along.’ Harry gave a dismissive wave. ‘Doesn’t make up for everything he did beforehand.’  
  
I curled my hand over my heart, where the burn mark still scorched my skin. Harry was right – Professor Snape had been truly awful for the entire time we’d known him. But in the end, the man had died because he’d chosen to save my life over escaping Voldermort.  
  
Well, not save my life. Prolong my death was a more accurate way of describing it.  
  
Didn’t that make him… not a saint, but perhaps, not evil? I wasn’t sure. Never had the line between good and bad been so blurred.  
  
‘Hello?’ Ginny said after a stretch of silence. ‘Focus here, people. New DADA professor.’  
  
‘Hey, how do you know, anyway?’ Harry said. ‘I’ve been trying to pry that information out of McGonagall all summer.’  
  
‘I used my wily ways,’ Ginny said, wiggling her eyebrows.  
  
‘On Professor McGonagall?’  
  
Ginny tossed her shiny red hair and laughed. ‘It’s Lupin.’  
  
_‘What?’_ the three of us said together.  
  
‘Better believe it. With Mr Malfoy off the school board, no one else had a problem asking him to come back.’ She clapped her hands. ‘DADA is finally going to be good again!’  
  
Considering our last two teachers had been Professor Snape and Umbridge, it was an understatement. I smiled to myself. It would be good to have Lupin around, especially this year.  
  
The thing I’d worried about most during the train trip was having an attack. I’d only had a two over the summer, and I had no idea if or when another one was due. It would be difficult hiding them in Hogwarts, but impossible on the train. How could I explain randomly falling to the floor in agony without telling the others my secret?  
  
Luckily, we arrived at Hogsmeade station without any problems, and I almost staggered off the carriage in my haste to break free of the confined space.  
  
Harry dropped his trunk to steady me. ‘You okay?’  
  
‘Eager to get to classes?’ Ron said with a teasing grin. ‘You know they don’t start ‘til tomorrow, right?’  
  
‘You’re so funny, Ron,’ Ginny said, deadpan.  
  
‘Hey, hey, hey.’ Seamus and Dean raced up to us with the air of two people who were desperate to spill gossip.  
  
‘You’ll never guess,’ Dean said.  
  
‘We already know Professor Lupin is our DADA teacher,’ I said.  
  
‘No, it’s – What? Seriously?’ Dean let out a whoop and high fived Seamus.  
  
‘No, but really,’ Seamus said. ‘You want to hear even better news?’ He leaned in so we all had to gather around to hear him. ‘No one let Malfoy sit in their carriage.’  
  
Ron moved away, scoffing. ‘What about Crabbe and Goyle?’  
  
‘As if,’ Dean said. ‘He turned on his “Death Eater” duties. They don’t want him. And Pansy Parkinson doesn’t want him now he’s a loser. Well,’ he amended, ‘more of a loser than usual.’  
  
‘Even Millicent Bulstrode wouldn’t have him,’ Seamus said, and he and Dean sniggered.  
  
‘Serves him right,’ Ginny said.  
  
‘He had to sit in the corridor the whole trip,’ Seamus said. ‘Almost fell over him on my way to the bathroom.’  
  
I caught sight of Malfoy then, trudging across the platform, dragging his trunk behind him. His head was bowed and his white fringe fell over most of his face. There was no sign of his eagle owl.  
  
It was easy to hate him when he was cocky and proud. I reminded myself of the things he’d called me over the years; of the horrific way he’d behaved. But pity nudged me, all the same. He looked so… broken. Had Azkaban done that to him?  
  
‘Not so arrogant now, is he?’ Seamus said.  
  
‘I heard he’s a child of the state now,’ Ginny said. ‘Because all his family’s in jail.’  
  
Harry took her trunk with his own and led her towards a horseless carriage. ‘Seriously, how are you getting this info?’  
  
He’d grown noticeably less sickly in her presence. She was good like that.  
  
They kept chatting as they climbed in. Ron gestured for me to go ahead of him, and Seamus and Dean gleefully hurried away to spread the word about Malfoy’s lonely train ride.  
  
I found myself looking at Malfoy again as he tried to get a horseless carriage. People kept closing the door on him. He sighed each time but seemed unsurprised.  
  
After the fourth shut door, he happened to glance my way. Our gazes caught. His desolate expression morphed to a scowl, and he turned away.  
  
Guess a stint in Azkaban hadn’t changed him, after all.


	2. The Portrait

Even though the great hall was packed with students and teachers, it felt like there was a cavernous hole without Professor Dumbledore.

There was, however, no reference to him as newly appointed headmistress, Professor McGonagall, began the usual proceedings. I saw the reasoning behind it – we’d had the funeral in July, it was a fresh school year, the first years had nothing to do with him, she didn’t want to bring the mood down. But Harry muttered something about showing Dumbledore some respect, and Ginny mentioned during dinner that they should’ve hung the black banners again.

Besides Professor Lupin, there were only a few staffing changes. Professor Slughorn was now the Slytherin head of house, and Professor Sinistra had taken Professor McGonagall’s spot as Gryffindor’s. I liked Professor Sinistra. She was a tall, dark witch who I’d heard had attended Uagadou School of Magic as a student. She always wore olive robes, with astrological signs on her hat and dangly planet-shaped earrings. Harry and Ron had given up Astronomy last year. I’d continued, because Astrology classes were at night and they didn’t clash with anything.

I waved to Lupin and Hagrid at the teacher’s table after our plates had disappeared. Lupin was looking healthier than I’d ever seen him. He caught up with me at the Gryffindor table after we were dismissed to the dorms. ‘How are you, Hermione?’

Ron, Harry, and Ginny wandered away, hardly surprised I was staying back to talk to a teacher.

‘Fine,’ I said.

Lupin studied me with a slight furrow to his brow. ‘How was your summer?’

‘Lovely. And yours? Congratulations on your posting, by the way.’

I tried to keep my voice airy, but his frown remained. He’d been there that night. He probably suspected, more than most, that I hadn’t come away from the battle unscathed. But he didn’t pry.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘My summer was… well, better than it’s been in a good while.’ He waited until the last Gryffindor had left the table before adding, ‘Professor McGonagall would like a word. She wants you in her office. The password is “porcupine”.’

I scanned the hall, wondering why Professor McGonagall hadn’t given me the message herself, only to find her at the Slytherin table. She was talking to Malfoy in swift, hushed tones. He nodded unhappily at whatever she was saying.

‘He doesn’t want to stay in the Slytherin rooms,’ Lupin said, noticing where my attention was. ‘I expect she’s found other sleeping arrangements for him.’

‘Why did he even come back?’

‘The ministry didn’t give him a choice. And… after Azkaban, I’m sure he’s willing to do what they say.’

I didn’t miss the change in Lupin’s tone. ‘You don’t approve of them sending him to Azkaban?’

‘With the Dementors how they are? Honestly, I don’t think _anyone_ should be in there.’ He shrugged. ‘Besides, he’s still young enough to be impressionable. We have a real chance to teach him empathy. Rehabilitation comes with acts of kindness, not with torture.’

‘I can’t imagine he’s going to find many acts of kindness here,’ I said, thinking of Malfoy’s lonely train ride.

Lupin smiled tightly. ‘Yes, well, we’re not ready to give up on him just yet.’

I pondered over these words as I headed to the headmistress’s office. It hadn’t occurred to me that Malfoy could be rehabilitated at all. It would have to take some enormous shift in his nature to turn him into a decent person.

But then, the ministry wasn’t aiming for Malfoy to be a decent person. Only a law-abiding one. Because how could you change the personality of someone who’s grown up in a household like the Malfoys?

‘Porcupine,’ I said when I reached the gargoyle outside Professor McGonagall’s office.

I was still deep in contemplation up the moving staircase, and when I went inside, I almost missed the single most important thing of my life.

‘Professor Dumbledore!’ I cried when at last the movement behind the desk caught my eye.

He beamed at me from his portrait, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses as they always had. ‘Hello, Miss Granger.’

I clasped my hands in front of my chest to keep my emotions spilling out. Already, tears were threatening to choke me.

‘I totally forgot about the headmaster portraits,’ I said. ‘It’s so good to see you again.’

‘And you,’ Dumbledore said. He’d been warming himself by a painted fireplace, but now wandered to his armchair and made himself comfortable. ‘I trust you had a pleasant break?’

‘Well, I…’

What was I supposed to say to that? I’d been grieving his loss all summer.

His smile softened. ‘I imagine, after everything that happened that night, it was more difficult than usual to enjoy your holiday.’

‘You… You know?’

‘Professor McGonagall filled me in.’ He tapped his temple. ‘I only have the knowledge of Albus Dumbledore at the time of the portrait creation, which was, lucky for me, not that long ago.’

I automatically glanced at his hand, which had been withered by the curse last year. He noticed where I was looking and held up his hand for me to see. ‘I made sure the painter kept that part out.’

So. _This_ Dumbledore remembered living with the curse. I had questions, but I didn’t know where to start.

‘I – I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘About… you know.’

‘Don’t apologise, Miss Granger. After all, it didn’t happen to _me_.’ He spread his arms cheerfully. ‘As you can see, I’m in perfect health.’

This was weird. I had to separate the Dumbledore before me from the Dumbledore whose funeral I went to in July.

His good humour eased as he watched me. ‘Would you care to tell me your version of events from that night?’

And I twigged as to what this was about. ‘Professor McGonagall doesn’t want to speak to me at all, does she? She wants me to speak to _you_.’

‘Astute as always, Miss Granger,’ Dumbledore said, chuckling. ‘Yes, Professor McGonagall – and others from the Order – are concerned about you. They seem to think there’s something you’re not telling them about that night.’

I hesitated.

‘What you tell me will remain in the strictest confidence,’ Dumbledore said. ‘I won’t share it with Professor McGonagall if you don’t want me to.’

‘Even if it puts my life at risk?’ I said.

Dumbledore lifted his fuzzy eyebrows, as if asking me to elaborate. When I didn’t, he said, ‘Very well, if you insist, I will keep your secret regardless of the danger. But,’ he added gently, ‘I hope you won’t mind me giving some advice to assist you, if I’m able.’

‘I’m going to need more than advice,’ I said. ‘I need information.’

He folded his hands in his lap and waited patiently for me to begin.

‘How much has Professor McGonagall explained?’ I said.

‘Why don’t you tell me your version as if I have no knowledge of the events? I find these sorts of things can come across quite differently depending on the narrator.’

I sank down on the visitor’s chair, frowning. I’d tried to block most of that night out of my mind, to keep the nightmares at bay. ‘Ron and I were supposed to stay alert for anything that would happen in the castle while you and Harry were gone. We didn’t know the rest of the Order were there that night, but we were definitely glad to see them when the Death Eaters came through. While we were fighting them, my wand was knocked away and I was dragged towards the Forbidden Forest by two Death Eaters. I don’t know their names, but they knew who I was. Someone must’ve told them I was muggleborn. I don’t… I don’t know what they were going to do with me.’

Bile rose in my throat, as it tended to do whenever I thought about it. Dumbledore waited, very quiet.

I regained control of my voice. ‘Professor Snape had already… you know… to you.’ I waved vaguely.

Dumbledore nodded.

‘He’d left the tower and was on his way out of the grounds. His plan was to escape and continue working undercover with Voldermort. Only he saw me being taken away and came to my rescue. He cast a spell on both of my attackers, but not before they…’

I trailed off and touched the spot over my heart. My gaze remained fixed on the headmistress’s desk.

‘They put a necklace on me. I didn’t know what it was, but it burned. Professor Snape recognised the curse at once. He tried to save me. He contained it as best he could.’

Dumbledore held up his perfect hand. ‘The same as mine?’

I nodded, blinking back tears.

‘Ah.’ He dropped his hand back in his lap.

Resolve hardened in me, as it had that night, when Professor Snape told me what was happening.

‘I’m going to find a cure,’ I said. ‘I know you couldn’t, but –’

‘But I had other things to do that year,’ Dumbledore said. ‘Yes, Miss Granger, you’re absolutely right. I had a choice between helping prepare Harry for Voldermort or saving myself. I, as you know, chose the former.’ He got up from his seat. ‘I can give you a list of books I did manage to look at in my spare time, so you won’t need to waste precious hours on those. And I can give you another list of potentially helpful books. You may need to leave the grounds on occasion. I expect Professor McGonagall will give you permission once we –’

‘Please,’ I said, cutting him off. ‘Please don’t tell her. Don’t tell anyone.’

He looked at me in astonishment. ‘Why not?’

‘Because then she and the rest of the Order will waste time with research when I know how hard they’re working to bring down the rest of the Death Eaters.’

‘Your life is worth their time, Miss Granger.’

‘Yes, but the Death Eaters are still out there, killing innocent people.’ I stood too, determined. ‘You know I’m capable of doing this on my own.’

‘You’ve at least told Harry and Ron?’

‘No. I don’t want to worry them. Because,’ I added as Dumbledore gave me a disapproving look, ‘what if there’s nothing they can do, and I die anyway? They’ll blame themselves for the rest of their lives.’

‘If you die, they will forever wonder whether their help might’ve saved you,’ Dumbledore said firmly. ‘You must tell them the truth.’

‘ _You_ didn’t tell anyone the truth.’ Dumbledore waved dismissively, but I pushed it. He was no longer the headmaster, and my priorities had shifted. ‘I can’t bear putting that kind of pressure on them. Of spending what might be my last year seeing their worried expressions day after day. I won’t do that to them. If the information’s out there, I’ll find it on my own. If a counter-curse doesn’t exist, at least I haven’t spent my final year burdening anyone.’

Dumbledore’s irritation faded. ‘It’s a heavy weight to carry. Confiding in someone may ease your pain.’

‘I’m strong enough to do this on my own.’ I drew an unsteady breath. ‘Don’t tell Professor McGonagall, or anyone else. Please.’

He regarded me. After a long beat, he said, ‘You have my word.’

‘Thank you.’ I dug in my robes for a scrap piece of parchment to write down Dumbledore’s list of books. ‘Um… also… is there anything I can do to prevent the attacks? Or at least ease them at all?’

‘Ah, yes.’ Dumbledore shut his eyes. ‘I had blissfully forgotten about those.’

I waited.

When he opened his eyes again, their sadness told me the answer before he spoke.

‘I’m sorry, Miss Granger. Hermione. Severus and I were unable to find anything to stop the attacks.’


	3. The First Act

Breakfast the next morning in the great hall was a rowdy affair. It seemed most students had gotten over the sombre feel of losing Dumbledore, and were instead keen to find out about their classes. Professor Sinistra handed the Gryffindors their timetables. She stopped at me.

‘Miss Granger,’ she said as she passed me my slip of paper, and something in her tone seemed ominous. ‘I’m afraid, due to the fact the astronomy tower was the site of such a tragedy, I’ve only had one other student in your year elect to do my class. If you both decide to withdraw, I’ll understand. I know astronomy doesn’t really suit your career path. However, if you would like to continue on with N.E.W.T. level, I’ll be happy to do the lessons.’

Ron, who had been listening while shovelling sausages in his mouth, said, ‘Who’s the other student?’ He’d gotten grease on his timetable already.

Professor Sinistra looked at me as she answered. ‘Draco Malfoy.’

Across the table, Ginny almost choked on her pumpkin juice.

‘Malfoy?’ Harry said in disgust. ‘How can _he_ go up there again, after what he did?’

‘I don’t know, Mr Potter, we didn’t get into details.’ Professor Sinistra kept her attention on me. ‘Would you like to withdraw?’

‘No, thank you,’ I said. Being an almost-empty astronomy tower, gazing at the stars, might be a good way to temporarily separate myself from this mess. It might be nice to take an hour out of each week to examine the stars and remind myself the universe is bigger than a curse, than a life, than a war, even.

And it’s not like I’d have to _talk_ to Malfoy.

‘Very well,’ Professor Sinistra said. ‘You’ll see our sessions are on Fridays. Make sure you bring your books. Here’s your timetable, Mr Thomas.’

‘Are you sure you want to be alone with Malfoy?’ Ron said in a low voice as Professor Sinistra moved away. ‘At night?’

‘The professor will be with us the whole time,’ I said, cleaning the grease from his timetable with a neat siphoning spell.

‘Maybe you could “accidentally” push him out of the tower,’ Ginny said.

‘ _Please_ accidentally push him,’ Ron said.

I almost laughed, but Harry looked away, and I knew he was thinking of Dumbledore falling. I squeezed his shoulder and got up. There was just enough time to check out a few books from the library.

Except I got absorbed, as I always did in the library, and didn’t realise how late it was until Madam Pince cleared her throat behind me. I barely made it to Charms by the bell.

Professor Flitwick was using magic to pass out thick sticks from the Forbidden Forest. After a few had landed on each desk, he explained we would be starting work on a complicated spell that required a touch of transfiguration as well as a charm. We would be giving the sticks wings and animating them, allowing them to fly around on their own before giving them a specific command to react to.

Harry, Ron, and I grinned at each other when we recognised what he was talking about. We had come across that very spell in our first year on our way to get the Philosopher’s Stone.

Professor Flitwick bent down to retrieve his own stick to demonstrate. There was a commotion out of the corner of my eye, and I turned to see both of Malfoy’s sticks burn away to nothing but ash. His look of surprise quickly changed to resignation, and he brushed the ash from his desk. Several people sniggered, but I couldn’t tell who’d done it.

After Professor Flitwick showed us what to do, we were instructed to try it for ourselves. Malfoy half-raised his hand. ‘Uh, Sir? I d-didn’t get a stick.’

I hadn’t heard his voice since last year, and the change in it was astounding. Gone was the oily, sneering tone. Gone was the confidence; the arrogance. It was quiet now. Humble… almost. And it was coarser, as if living with the Dementors over the summer had clogged his vocal chords somehow.

‘D-D-D-Did you get missed out, D-D-Draco?’ Pansy Parkinson said, giggling.

‘Oh, d-d-d-dear,’ said Millicent Bulstrode.

The two of them laughed together, which was weird. Even though they were in the same house, they’d never gotten along. It seemed their newfound hatred of Malfoy had united them. Others sniggered too, including Ron and Harry.

‘That’s enough, girls,’ Professor Flitwick said as he passed along another stick.

I tried to remember that Draco Malfoy was an awful person. I tried to dredge up the memories of him tormenting me. Of his slimy, cowardly ways.

But all I saw was the flush to his cheeks, the hunch of his shoulders, the sheer vulnerability of him, and I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the guy. I never condoned bullying – not even when it was towards a bully.

Professor Flitwick wandered around the classroom to watch our attempts. I could see why we needed more than one stick – the transfiguration part wasn’t a problem, but giving an animated stick with less sense than a garden gnome a specific command was harder than it sounded. Seamus had to grab his stick out of the air and snap it in half after it started beating Slytherins over the head. He swore to Professor Flitwick the charm hadn’t been on purpose.

I’d decided to go with something straight-forward but not too easy. When I tapped my nose, it furled its long, feathery wings around its body and spun three times in quick succession.

‘Wood is more malleable than other substances, which is why we’re starting with it,’ Professor Flitwick explained as he roamed between desks. ‘Oh, well done, Miss Granger. We’ll be moving up to metal, then stone once you pass this initial phase. Trust me, stone objects do _not_ like being told what to do.’

While he was distracted, there was another burst of fire. Malfoy, who had just given his stick sleek, bat-like wings, watched his project burn once more. I didn’t even think. With a whispered spell, I sent my second stick zooming to his desk.

He picked it up, brow furrowed, and glanced around to see who had given it to him. There wasn’t time to look away. He caught my gaze, and his puzzlement turned to bafflement. It must’ve been incomprehensible to him. Why would I, of all people, be helping the person who had called me a mudblood my whole school life?

I didn’t know the answer to that, either. I gave a one-shouldered shrug and turned away again to find Ron’s stick shredding itself into pieces.

‘I just wanted it to bow to me,’ Ron said weakly.

‘It’s a stick, Ron,’ I said. ‘Did you at least give it flexibility so it could bend at the waist?’

‘Er…’

I sighed and walked him through the assignment step by step. By the time the class was finished he’d made good progress, but it wasn’t perfect. Professor Flitwick, of course, assigned him and most other students the charm to practise for homework, along with an essay on the components required for our chosen charm when used on wood.

In the bustle of packing away, I almost missed the quiet ‘thanks’ Malfoy mumbled as he passed.

If he had been surprised by my action earlier, it had nothing on the astonishment I felt now.


	4. Astronomy

I didn’t see Malfoy much as the week passed, but I thought about him. Mainly I contemplated the situation he had grown up in, and the hatred that existed in this world thanks to a parent’s prejudices. Teaching a child to hate those different from them should be illegal.

Maybe Lupin was right. Maybe kindness could lead Malfoy down a different path. I might’ve had hope for his rehabilitation if it weren’t for the mutterings coming from the Slytherin house about the way he was currently being treated. From the sounds of it, at least he wasn’t sleeping in the dungeons. No one seemed to know where he went in the evenings, although it had been difficult for me to find out more without seeming _too_ interested.

Besides, I had bigger things to focus on. I’d spent every spare moment in the library, poring over the old, yellow-paged books, trying to find a counter-curse. Hogwarts Library was the most extraordinary place in the castle. The books smelled like must and magic, and the slants of light that came through the windows gave the place the feel of an old painting. It had been a refuge during my worst moments over the years. A place of hope. Witches and wizards through the generations had scribed their knowledge on these pages, passing down what they’d learned so we as people could continue to surge forward. The bookshelves stretched on for lengths and lengths. Despite the amount of time I’d spent inside, there were still areas I hadn’t seen.

Scholars even visited these shelves for their own research. I knew that for a fact – I’d _seen_ them. If a counter-curse was out there, the Hogwarts Library would have a record of it.

I’d written down all the books Dumbledore had suggested and drawn up a timetable for how to get through the rest of the relevant books before the end of the school year. I gave myself very little time for homework. It pained me to do less than my best, but – and I had to keep reminding myself of this – there was no point getting top marks if I were dead before graduation.

Unfortunately, it took no time at all for Harry and Ron to notice something wasn’t right.

‘You spent all of last night in the library, and you only got an E?’ Ron said, peering over my shoulder at my Transfiguration homework mark.

Professor McGonagall had returned the essay with her mouth in a tight line, but she hadn’t said anything. I assumed Dumbledore had told her to go easy on me.

I tucked my homework into my robes with a casual shrug. ‘I guess they mark harsher for N.E.W.T. levels.’

‘That’s just great,’ Ron said, looking at his own abysmal grade. He brightened. ‘Hey, the Gryffindors are holding a back-to-school party tonight in the R.o.R. and I know you’re capable of putting a book down for two seconds to have a good time. I’ve witnessed it myself.’

‘I have Astronomy,’ I said, grateful for the excuse.

‘Oh yeah.’ Ron shuddered. ‘Alone with Malfoy.’

‘Good luck with that,’ Harry said grimly.

But it seemed luck was not on my side for other reasons. I was halfway up the astronomy tower at a quarter to twelve when an attack seized me.

The curse had left a burn mark over my heart, and it was from there that the pain radiated, like a gluggy, poisonous substance that spread through my entire body. I doubled over. My books scattered around me. My knees hit the stone steps, but by then I could barely feel external sensations.

The gluggy substance wrapped around my muscles and organs and bones and _squeezed_. I gasped for air that could no longer reach my lungs. It clawed at my brain. Blackness dripped in my vision. Pressure built at my eardrums until they were ready to burst.

In these moments, death would’ve been the preferable option.

I was in the grip of something stronger than a python, every part of me crushed, pulverised. The curse was trying to claim its victim, but it couldn’t, and it was enraged.

I don’t know how long the attack lasted. When I started to regain my senses, I found myself sprawled on the cold steps, wheezing. Blood dripped from my mouth. I swiped it away with the back of my wrist and started to stand.

‘Granger?’

I almost fell over again at the voice. Malfoy was at the curve of the staircase, his jaw hanging open, his astronomy books hanging forgotten in his arms. In the light of the flaming torches, he seemed extra pale.

Great. Of all the people to have witnessed an attack, it had to be him?

‘I’m fine.’ My voice was breathless and barely audible. ‘I just lost my footing.’

I used the wall for balance as I got to my feet. I didn’t yet have the energy to pick up my books.

‘You can go past,’ I said, shifting aside. ‘I’ll be up in a bit.’

Malfoy didn’t move. I huffed and gestured weakly for him to hurry.

‘You d-didn’t _just_ fall over,’ he said suspiciously.

His attention was on my mouth, and I hastily wiped another bead of blood from my lips.

‘You were screaming,’ he said.

Why wouldn’t he let it go? ‘I bit my tongue. It hurt.’

He still didn’t look convinced. ‘D-Do you want me to get Madam Pomfrey?’

‘No!’ I caught myself and added, calmer, ‘No, thank you.’ Then I frowned. ‘Have you picked up a stutter?’

This time it was his turn to avoid my question. ‘I’ll meet you up there.’ He kept his gaze down as he hurried past me.

I watched until his pale hair disappeared around the next corner. The trauma from Azkaban must’ve given him a speech impediment. And that explained Millicent and Pansy’s teasing earlier – they already knew he was struggling with it.

I curled my fists. Next time I saw those two girls, they were getting hexed.

When I regained my strength, I picked up my books and headed slowly up the steps. As early as I’d started, I didn’t arrive until five minutes after the lesson had started.

‘Draco tells me you fell over,’ Professor Sinistra said as I arrived. ‘Are you okay?’

I nodded and set down my books on the rickety table across from the telescopes. ‘Just a scraped knee.’

Professor Sinistra eyed me for longer than necessary, and I wondered whether she’d been told to report my behaviour to Professor McGonagall.

‘Very well,’ she said after her examination. ‘We’ll be studying the moon this semester, so please choose a golden telescope and take a blank moonscape chart. You’ll be filling in the details portion by portion each lesson. There’s some information in your books I’d like you to go through afterwards, and we’ll be using the lunascopes Mr Malfoy kindly donated to the school last year.’

Professor Sinistra avoided looking at Malfoy as she said it. I didn’t blame her. It felt wrong to be using something given to the school by a Death Eater, but at the same time, why waste a perfectly good teaching instrument?

I used a telescope on the far end of the astronomy tower, away from where Dumbledore had fallen. Malfoy must’ve had the same dread as me of that place, because he chose a spot two telescopes over.

Harry had asked on Monday how Malfoy could go to the tower, and I realised that was a very good question. It was here Malfoy had pointed his wand at Dumbledore with the intent to kill. Here he’d lost his nerve. Here he’d watched Snape murder Dumbledore instead.

Everything had changed in the astronomy tower. How could Malfoy stomach it?

I didn’t ask him. I doubted he’d want to have a deep and meaningful conversation with me.

Professor Sinistra was studying the sky on the other side of the tower. I’d heard she was writing a book on the asteroid belt – she must’ve been using this time for her research.

The three of us worked in silence for the first twenty minutes, the only sound the scratching of our quills on the blank moonscape charts. It was a soothing activity, especially after the horror on the staircase. We’d covered the moon briefly over the years, but never in this much detail, and I found myself absorbed in the work. It was nice to forget everything for a while.

‘Hey.’

Malfoy’s quiet voice startled me out of my deep concentration. I glanced up from my telescope to find him watching me.

‘Are you really okay?’ he said.

He sounded like he actually cared. If I didn’t know any better, I’d suspect he was a completely different person under the cover of Polyjuice potion.

I returned my attention to the moon through my telescope. ‘Yes, Malfoy, I’m fine.’

He fell silent again, and I thought the conversation was over, except…

‘Hey, Granger?’ I looked up again. He was still watching me. ‘Why d-did you give me that extra stick in Charms?’

‘In case you haven’t noticed, Malfoy, I don’t like bullies.’

A strange expression crossed his face. Curiosity got the better of me. I had so many questions for him, and since he was being open, now was the time to ask. Subtly, though.

‘I hope they don’t treat you like that in the Slytherin rooms,’ I said.

‘Oh… er.’ His pale face coloured in the moonlight. ‘I don’t sleep there anymore.’

I tried to arrange my face into a look of surprise. ‘Really? Where do you sleep?’

‘It d-doesn’t matter,’ he muttered, and made a few scribbles on his moonscape.

I tried a different question. ‘Why are you doing astronomy?’

He gave a one-shouldered shrug without lifting his gaze. Any hint of openness had vanished.

‘Okay,’ I said, turning to my telescope, but on second thoughts, I turned back to him and said, ‘Do you think… um… Would you please not tell anyone about what happened on the staircase?’

He finally raised his gaze to give me a wry smile. ‘Who would I tell?’

And for the first time, it properly sank in for me.

Draco Malfoy was totally alone.


	5. Civility

‘Morning, boys,’ I said as I sat between Harry and Ron at the great hall. The smell of sausages was making my mouth water.

Both of them groaned instead of answering.

I heaped bacon and eggs onto my plate. ‘Have fun last night, then?’

Another round of groans.

I’d heard fireworks go off around 3 a.m. – Ron must’ve smuggled in some Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes merch. They were lucky Filch hadn’t caught them.

Ginny grinned at me from the other side of Harry. She was looking as fresh and perky as a dandelion. ‘It was a blast. Hagrid showed up at the beginning but fell asleep in the corner of the room after about half an hour.’

‘I heard he’s having a rough time with the younger classes,’ I said. ‘They’re keeping him busy. And he’s not getting any younger.’

‘Then we went for a bit of a wander in the grounds,’ Ginny said.

Which probably coincided with the time the fireworks went off.

She scooped a lump of butter onto a knife. ‘Want to go for a swim? It’s a beautiful day.’ She elbowed Harry. ‘And these two boys could use a dip.’

‘Can’t,’ I said. ‘Going to the library.’

‘Again?’ Ron said. ‘You’re going to forget what sunshine looks like.’

‘I told you this year would be full on.’

‘But –’

‘Leave her alone, Ron,’ Ginny said.

Ron slumped his head into his arms, probably more to do with his hangover than being upset that I wouldn’t join them. I patted his shoulder. But before I could say any words of consolation, a flash of white caught my eye, and I saw Malfoy taking a seat at the far end of the Slytherin table. Everyone shifted away. It was as if he had an invisible force field around him.

His gaze met mine, somehow, even though we were across the hall from each other. My lips twitched in an almost-smile. He gave me a nod of acknowledgement before turning his attention to his meal.

‘Everything go okay last night?’ Ginny said.

I jumped. I hadn’t realised she’d seen the exchange.

‘Fine,’ I said, wondering why I was feeling guilty. ‘We mostly kept to ourselves.’

It was true enough. Besides, if I were to explain further, I’d have to tell them about my attack, and I couldn’t do that without going into details about the curse. It was the only reason I didn’t mention my conversation with Malfoy last night.

Wasn’t it?

The question drifted in my head like fog as I started for the library. Maybe I was just feeling bad for not hating Malfoy like everyone else seemed to. Why did I have to be so conflicted over this?

At least I could be absorbed in my research. I lost myself in the world of curses and counter-curses. Lunchtime came and went, and I hardly noticed. Every book was thoroughly examined before I checked it off my list. How terrible would it be if I missed the answer, just because I skimmed a few pages?

But the methodical search grew wearisome. My eyes drooped in the failing light. When I realised I had no idea what I’d just read in the previous chapter, I slammed the book shut, groaning.

‘You’re still here?’

I glanced up to find – of all people – Malfoy returning an astronomy book to the shelves.

I frowned. ‘What are you doing?’

He looked from the book’s spine back to me. ‘I thought that would’ve been k-kind of obvious.’

‘But it’s a Saturday.’

‘True,’ he said, ‘which is why it’s the perfect place.’

I understood in an instant. It was unlikely we’d be running into anyone else in the library on the first weekend of the school term.

‘I saw you this morning, when I came in here for a Charms book,’ he said. Hesitantly, he stepped towards my table. ‘I can’t believe you still haven’t left.’

My stomach couldn’t, either – it took the opportunity to rumble loudly.

Malfoy almost smiled. ‘D-Dinner’s about to start.’ His gaze fell to my collection of books, which I swiftly gathered into a pile. ‘What are you working on?’

‘Oh, you know,’ I said vaguely. ‘A bunch of things.’

Malfoy shot a glance at the book he’d just put away. ‘I suppose you’ve finished the astronomy homework, then?’

‘Hmm? Oh… no. Not yet.’

He watched me, puzzled, as I bundled my books into my arms and tried to keep the titles concealed.

‘Well then,’ I said briskly, ‘see you at dinner.’

‘Okay,’ he said, still curious.

I felt bad for blowing him off as I hurried away, but the last thing I needed was for Malfoy to put my books and last night’s attack together and figure out what was going on.

Except he was waiting for me at the library counter when I was done putting my books away. Madam Pince was watching him suspiciously. Me, she could understand being in the library on a Saturday. But Draco Malfoy?

She muttered under her breath as Malfoy and I walked out together.

‘Thanks,’ I said, feeling completely wrong-footed. ‘For, um, waiting for me.’

‘You d-don’t mind?’

‘No, I just…’ I squinted at him. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but why are you being decent? I sort of expect you to hex me any moment.’

He spread his wandless hands. ‘No hexes.’

‘Then why?’

He shrugged and looked away, remaining silent as we started down the first lot of staircases.

‘You’re the only one who’s been nice to me,’ he mumbled at last.

‘Wow, you must be lonely if you’re turning to _me_ for companionship.’ My tone was a little sharper than I’d meant.

‘Look,’ he said, stopping to turn to me. I stopped too. ‘I’m losing my mind. The only ones I can talk to are my roommates, and trust me when I say that isn’t enough.’

‘Who –’

‘I d-didn’t have anyone to talk to over the summer – obviously –’ His breath hitched, but he ploughed on, ‘and I d-don’t even have anyone left to _write_ to. Just please… talk to me so I d-don’t go as loony as Lovegood.’

I scoffed. ‘For a start, you can stop calling my friends loony.’

To my astonishment, he held up his hands in defeat. ‘You’re right, I’m sorry. Old habit. Won’t happen again.’

I continued onwards, slow enough for him to know he was still welcome to walk with me. My head spun. All the curses and counter-curses I’d read about during the day fell away, the transformation of the boy beside me a much more curious magic.

‘I didn’t know you knew _how_ to be a decent person,’ I said as distant voices from the great hall floated up. ‘And I certainly didn’t know you knew what an apology sounded like.’

He hesitated. ‘You learn a lot when locked up with D-Dementors.’

It was like his arrogance had been stripped away. Exactly what kind of torture had he gone through?

‘All right,’ I said, ‘I don’t mind talking to you.’ I paused before we turned the corner. ‘But, er… no offence… I just don’t think we should be seen together.’

He stepped away from me. ‘No, you’re absolutely right.’ He shuddered, as if imagining what someone – perhaps Pansy – would shout if we walked into the great hall together. He gestured for me to continue. ‘You go first. You were hungry, weren’t you?’

I had momentarily forgotten, but my stomach was quick to remind me again. I thanked him – another odd turn to the evening – and headed around the corner.

As I did so, it occurred to me that I had just agreed to be civil to Draco Malfoy.

And it didn’t even bother me.


	6. Chapter 6

Time crumbled away like sand through my fingers.

How was the weekend over already?

How was it Friday again?

How was it _October?_

With each passing week, my panic increased. Why couldn’t I find anything useful about my curse? The library was letting me down, and the library never let me down.

I had another attack, too, but it was during the night, when my soundproof curtains were drawn around my bed, and no one heard the screaming. When I woke in the morning, I swore to myself I’d tell Harry and the others about the curse on the first day of April to give them a chance to help me.

No, maybe April wouldn’t be enough time. February? Or perhaps 30th December, exactly six months before my death date.

No – after New Year’s Eve, so at least they could enjoy that.

I covered my face with my hands and sobbed. I didn’t want to do this anymore. I couldn’t take this burden.

It took some time to find the strength to drag myself out of bed and brave another Monday morning. My first stop was the library – it was early enough to read through a few more pages of my latest curse book before breakfast.

Malfoy was waiting for me.

I wasn’t wholly surprised. We’d run into each other a lot in the library, our place of refuge, but this was the first time he’d been there first thing in the morning.

‘Hello,’ I said, slightly warily. He had an unfamiliar expression of determination.

‘You need help,’ he said.

I waited, wondering whether it was some kind of insult, but I doubted it. He’d changed too much.

‘Whatever you’re d-doing, let me help you.’

My instant reaction was to refuse. I had been determined to do this on my own, at least until next year.

Malfoy must’ve seen the words form on my lips, because he added, ‘I know you’re researching curses. I’ve seen enough these last few weeks to figure it out. D-Don’t you think my… past experiences… might be useful?’

I shut my mouth and eyed him curiously. It had never occurred to me that a former Death Eater could be useful. Maybe he’d had access to dark magic books at the Malfoy Manor in the past, or knowledge of what went on at Borgin and Burkes. After all, it was a Death Eater who had cursed me.

Still…

‘I know things are different this year,’ I said, ‘but – I’m sorry – I don’t know if I can trust you with this.’

What if he read about an antidote and simply didn’t mention it? That would be all it would take to doom me.

‘You d-don’t even trust your friends.’ It didn’t sound accusatory, more like a question. He studied me in the soft morning light. ‘They haven’t been helping you, even though it looks like you’re practically k-killing yourself d-down here trying to find…. what? A cure? D-Does it have something to do with what happened to you on the staircase last month?’

I didn’t answer.

‘Granger, are you cursed?’

I pressed my lips together to keep from speaking.

Malfoy figured out my answer anyway. ‘Is it bad? Why isn’t Potter here with you?’

‘He doesn’t know,’ I said sharply. ‘And you’re not going to tell him, or anyone else.’

Malfoy’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. ‘Why d-doesn’t he know?’

‘Because he’s had enough to deal with. I’m fine on my own.’

‘Right,’ Malfoy said, brow smoothing. ‘So I’m guessing it’s one of those non-serious curses. Something small, like you have the same tune stuck in your head forever. Or your fingernails d-don’t grow.’

I stalked past him on the way to the shelves. He followed, still speaking.

‘It can’t be something serious, because that would be ridiculous. You wouldn’t keep such a big secret from your precious friends –’

‘Enough, Malfoy.’

His words were hitting a little too close to home. He was making me feel guilty for protecting the people I loved most.

‘Give me something to d-do,’ he said as I grabbed my current read from the shelf. It was a big, dusty tome that had a lot of old language and overly cursive script.

‘I’ll give you something to do,’ I muttered. I could think of several things to suggest, all of which were probably unreasonable to utter in a school setting.

He grabbed the book next to the one I had taken and followed me to a desk, where he sat down and opened it up. ‘Here I am, going through words,’ he said, turning the thick, yellowing pages. ‘I d-don’t know whether they’re useful words, because I d-don’t know what I’m looking for. Bit of a waste, isn’t it?’

I resisted the urge to slam my own book shut. ‘Malfoy, please –’

‘I’m the perfect person to help you with this. I have no social life, I’m only taking the bare minimum of N.E.W.T. classes, and I know a fair bit about curses. Why would you turn d-down an opportunity like this?’

‘Because how do I know you won’t screw me over?’ I snapped.

He stopped turning the pages. I instantly felt the sting of regret.

‘I –’

‘No, you’re right,’ he said, carefully closing the book. ‘That’s totally fair.’

It probably was, but I still felt awful for saying it.

‘Well,’ he said, standing. He picked up the book. ‘Sorry to bother you.’

Part of me didn’t want him to leave.

He returned his book to the shelf and dusted his hands. ‘But listen, can you at least tell me the name of the curse? Maybe I know something useful. It can’t hurt, right?’

I let out a long sigh. No, I guess it couldn’t hurt.

‘The common name is Reaper’s Blood,’ I said. ‘I don’t know if –’

Malfoy fell back into his seat. He stared at me, stunned. ‘You were cursed with Reaper’s Blood? How are you still alive?’

‘Professor Snape managed to contain the curse before he died, but it’s only temporary. He said it would last a year.’

‘You have a year left to live?’

‘About eight and a half months, actually.’ A familiar bubble of panic rose in my chest at the thought. It was all happening so fast. I breathed through the anxiety and added, ‘But that’s plenty of time to find a cure.’

‘There’s no cure for Reaper’s Blood.’

‘The world is a big place, Malfoy. The fact that Professor Snape could contain it means there’s still hope.’ I returned to my book. ‘And if that’s the attitude you have, then I definitely don’t want you to help me.’

‘I said there was no cure,’ Malfoy pointed out. ‘I didn’t say there was no hope.’

I glanced at him sideways.

He gave me a grim smile. ‘I think I can help you.’


End file.
